Tale of Two Sparrows
by Medea's Lullaby
Summary: Summary inside. No purchase necessary. 1 in 10 will win.
1. Bloody Caribbean

Summary: A typical tale of some time traveling gone horribly awry. However, I tried my hardest to tweak the story and characters into something of my own instead of the usual Mary-Sue that we're all used to (Woop! I rhymed, I'm a poet and I didn't even realize it!). Five modern femme pirates find themselves in something of a pickle (Mmm.pickles.) and rely on a certain pirate captain to help them out (wonder who that could be). Of course, who can trust a pirate?  
  
Disclaimer: I'm not even going to get into the legalities of this story. I'm obviously not making didly squat on this story. This is for sheer entertainment value, my entertainment mostly. Steal the plot, the characters if you want (god only knows why).I can't stop you (though I can tell you that what you are doing is very rude).  
  
This story is rated for language and for content. If you are uncomfortable with the following, I highly suggest clicking that little back button thing and getting as far away from this story as possible: strong language, gratuitous violence, use of drugs, manipulation, sexual innuendos and a "sad" ending.  
  
Really, it's not as bad as it seems. But with the above being said, lets get on with it shall we? Oh! One more thing, it may take a few chapters to get to the Captain Jack Sparrow but please bear with me.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Janssen scratched her bare shoulder, not surprised to find that her skin was, in fact, peeling.  
  
"Bloody tropics." She muttered, picking idly at the sun burnt skin. Three years. She'd spent three hot, sweaty, stinky, dirty years in the Caribbean. She looked out at the sapphire morning horizon; it offered no release for her restless mind. "Bloody horizon." Terrible, relentless blue surrounded her and the sun, the only body in the sky, beat down on her back with a fervor that made her skin itch. Janssen "Pogo" Morrison leaned against the rails of Cassandra's Nightmare and let an agitated sigh escape her lips. She was bored. It was too quiet, too peaceful. They needed music, loud bounding music with a thumping bass. Something with sexy rhythms and an intense flow. Instead a new sound echoed across the deck and reached her ears; a clear, deep, feminine voice. Singing the most despised song in the world, according to Janssen at least.  
  
"We're rascals and scoundrels; villains and knaves. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!" She grabbed a wet rag off the deck as she stepped around the cabin, taking care not to be seen. "We're devils and black sheep; really bad eggs. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!" She saw a girl scrubbing the morning salt off the deck. Her skin bronzed, and already, a light sheen of sweat covered it. Her short hair lay close to her head; it reminded Janssen of coffee. strong, dark, something that she might pour down her throat at a Denny's in the middle of the night. Yes, she finally decided. It was the color of mid- Western coffee. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me!" Janssen remembered why she had come. She took the line as a cue to chuck the rag at the damned singing deck-cleaner. A smile spread across her face as it gave a satisfying smack against the girl's naked back. "Aye, sonuvabitch!" Janssen laughed as the girl turned and glared at her. "Pogo! You." The girl rubbed her back for a moment, still feeling the sting of it before taking the brush in her hand and throwing at Pogo's head. Pogo ducked and looked over the rail as the defenseless brush gave an inaudible splash into the broken water.  
  
"And another one bites the dust." Pogo muttered as the brush bobbed and finally drowned in the chaotic aquamarine swirls. She turned back to the girl and reached for a silver tin in her pocket. "Typically." She started, putting a hand rolled cigarette to her chapped lips and lit it. She took a drag and blew it to the sky, glaring at the relentlessly empty blue. "Pirates don't sing Disney songs.especially ones about being a pirate. Advertisement is the last thing we need." Pogo glanced up at the Bahamian flag, the bold colors; green, yellow and black flapping proudly against the blue backdrop. They'd have to change it to the hopelessly intricate American flag by this time tomorrow. Hell, it'd be even better to change it tonight. She took another drag and cursed under her breath.  
  
"Those things'll kill you." Said the deck-scrubber as she wiped her wet hands on her torn, sea-washed jeans. Pogo turned to her, raising an eyebrow as she took a proud stance against her, frowning.  
  
"That is," Pogo took another drag, a punctuation she used much too often. "If this life doesn't kill me first." It wasn't that she didn't enjoy being a pirate, she'd gotten her bikes, her cars, her houses out of the three.hot, sweaty, stinky years. But something inside her yearned for a normal life. Though, now, she had come to accordance with the fact that she'd never have a normal life. She mentally shrugged it off. Might as well make some money while she still could. The deck-scrubber crossed her arms and huffed.  
  
"And I'm not typical." Pogo turned to her, her fading pink hair whirling in a flash of color as the girl pulled her out of her musing. She took a drag and studied her for a moment.in a fair fight-she pointed at her with two, cigarette-cradling fingers, ready to insult.  
  
"Y'know what, Roxy?" Pogo decided last minute to swallow down her words. "You're probably right." The words came out with more resolve than either had expected.  
  
"I'm always right." Roxy muttered under her breath. She turned from the smoking woman and gazed at the open sea.  
  
The ocean gazed back at her, a hypnotizing swirl of blues and reflections, it was dangerous, the morning azure could ensnare you so far into her spell that you lost all control of conscious thought whatsoever. Cover your eyes in a sheet of the clear, clean color. There was something coming. Roxanne Trippito could feel it, a slow dull ache in her palms. Beneath the pure rolling reflection, the ocean was hiding something. So, this was how people got lost at sea, musing the waters and eventually seeing mermaids, dragons. Deciding that salt-water was actually drinkable and throwing themselves to the madness and the sharks. The horizon grew tireless after months on the ocean.  
  
".Then, what she wants to do is go up to Bermuda, sell the coke. Apparently, we can -Roxy? Roxanne Lindsay Trippito? You schmuck! Are you listening to me?" Roxy started her head up as the Pogo let out a disgusted sound and threw what was left of her cigarette into the ocean. Her fists rested on her hips and cocked her head, reminding Roxy-just a little-of Peter Pan. "Have you heard a word I just said?" Roxy tilted her head a bit and studied the dissatisfied girl before her. She was more of a silhouette against the morning aurora, outlined in dying fuchsia and lime green shadows. She always did have a peculiar sense of style. Pink hair and chartreuse, polka-dotted clothing wasn't an easy thing to pull off but somehow, Pogo managed the arrogance-confidence. The confidence. Roxy waved her musings away and nodded.  
  
"Yeah.Bermuda.coke. Then what?" Pogo took a deep breath, muttered a curse then continued to explain 'the plan'. Roxy noticed as the girl's hands moved with a resolved wildness in front of her as she spoke; an extension of her dirty habit-needing something to do with her hands at all times. Otherwise, she grew bored and threw things, like wet rags, at people. Her ponytail, set high on her head, flapped wildly behind her. Occasionally, getting into her face at which Pogo would glare, growl and violently flip it behind her. Roxy smiled; glad that her own hair would never betray her like that. It had never been anything other than close to her head. Short, easy to take care of, simple. She could be ready and out quicker than anybody-any female she knew.  
  
".I don't know how she expects to do this. She said she had an insider but, still, it seems a little shady. Y'know?" The polka-dot queen stopped for a minute, waiting for some reply. Hopefully, an affirmation. "I don't trust this guy, Columbian. Juan. Dark shifty eyes." Roxy frowned in an attempt to hide an amused smile as Pogo's own midnight colored eyes slipped over to the cabin to see if anyone was listening to her opinions. Then, something caught her web of thoughts.  
  
"Wait, Juan the Columbian coke smuggler?" She smiled, the amusement spreading to the other morning soul.  
  
"Yeah." The girl smiled widely. Roxy burst into laughter.  
  
"Juan the Columbian coke smuggler.how much more stereotypical can you get?" She wasn't sure if she was laughing at the humor of it or just to laugh. She didn't think she cared. Suddenly, another thought crossed her mind. They were sailing from the Bahamas to Bermuda. The laughing subsided as the fear of superstition chilled her blood. A thousand fears sunk into her skin, blocking out the sun, fogging her reason. "Pogo?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Did you just say that we're sailing to Bermuda?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Wouldn't we have to sail." The smirk that crossed Pogo's lips scared Roxy almost as much as the idea of sailing through it.  
  
"Right through the Devil's Triangle."  
  
I shall now use this time to plead and beg for a little reviewing. But please, be gentle. It's my first time. ;) 


	2. Gin and Coke

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One  
  
A/N: I just had a stroke of brilliance. Stop laughing. Really, I did but am I going to tell you? Hah! No.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
It was a beautiful evening. The sun had cooled off enough for "Sparrow" Collins to throw on a light shirt over her bikini. Though, the backlash of the heat still kept her skin moist. She clicked her tongue in cheek as she watched the dark figures run around the deck of the white vessel, performing whatever task their captain screamed out to them. She always appreciated the time before attack, watching her victims run in circles like chickens with their heads chopped off. A smile appeared on her face as she ran the sensation over her tongue like pearls. The pulsing of her blood, the beating of her heart, all in sync with the other as the adrenaline rushed through her body.  
  
"It's almost euphoric." She muttered to the figure beside her. Pogo, a white cap covering her pink hair, laid on the deck with a rifle in hand. "Watching them struggle like this.and knowing it's no use. It's an incredible rush of power. God-like." Pogo turned to Sparrow, studying to woman like she would a rabid dog. Her hair was down and-by some miracle of God-blowing behind her instead of in her face. There were shadows of its natural color, probably a mahogany shade. Now, it was sun kissed to an unnatural shade of blonde. The curls had tightened around her face, knotting and tangling whenever the wind blew through it. Giving it that wild, almost insane touch that she knew Sparrow couldn't live without. But the hair wasn't usually what caught people's attention. It was the tattoos; over three years, Pogo had watched four tattoos grow into two complete sleeves covering the lot of skin on Sparrow's arm. She didn't know if it was because the woman loved the ink or merely a scare tactic. It didn't matter to her as long as she got the money. The inked lady turned to her, lowering her huge aviator glasses to meet eyes with Pogo. "What?"  
  
"Nothing. You're just fucking crazy." They challenged each other for a moment before breaking out into light laughter. The man on the vessel screamed another order in Spanish causing everyone on Sparrow's boat to turn to the Columbian vessel. Sparrow's eyes widened for a minute before she realized what was happening.  
  
"Shit!" She screamed, pounding the railings. "They're getting rid of the coke!" As if on cue, the Columbian's started to dump the drugs overboard. Sparrow almost cried as she watched the hundreds of thousands of dollars go into the water. Pogo turned up to her with an almost calm, placid face. Her warrior face.  
  
"Can I shoot them now?" A smile spread across her face as she watched Sparrow lift her own rifle.  
  
"Kill the bastards!!"  
  
Fifteen minutes later, four women climbed on board of La Rosa Blanca. It was quiet, there were no more souls left to resist them. The bloodied corpses littered the deck, staining it in various shades of red, brown and black. Lumpy masses of what were once functioning organs splattered across the deck. Dani Corner closed her eyes and tried not to think about the families that these men had, what would happen to them when their men never returned. She took deep breaths through her mouth.  
  
"Holy shit, it reeks." Someone said beside her. The bile and the blood and the guts warming in the sun, the rotting carcasses caused it. She was always fine with killing a man, she mused as she shoved her Remmington to her back. Perfectly fine, why should now be any different? She was growing soft in her years. She turned her head to the murmuring of Sparrow and her Columbian consort. They spoke in a rapid Spanish, she only got one word or another. Not enough to string together a sensible assumption. Sparrow ran a hand along his face as he gave her a smile. He thought he had the upper hand. He never saw the pistol until she shot him.  
  
"Pinché ciana." Sparrow muttered as used her free inked hand to push Juan DeMarco over the rails. He struggled with the water for a moment before going still and floating on his back, starring at her with sad brown eyes. She turned to see three very disturbed women watching her. "What the fuck do you want? The man was a worm." She put her free hand on her hip, daring any of them to chide her when they had all done the same exact thing at least once before. The tension passed, slowly and Sparrow turned to go into the heart of the monster and find whatever money they hadn't thrown over board. "I want you guys to tear this thing apart, take what you can." She gripped her pistol as she opened the door and analyzed the halls, nearly sterile compared to that mess on deck. Her eyes scanned and judged. Strangely enough, these halls were probably the safest place to be on the boat. Still, she hopped down the stairs and opened her first door. Aiming at an imaginary-but very much a potential-target. All she received was the low humming of a working ship and.what was that? Snoring? Flipping on the light she saw a figure, curled up under one of the pipes, snoring and talking softly to himself. It would have been endearing to anyone else.  
  
She let out three shots to the floor, not caring about the damage to the boat. Wasn't her bloody boat. The man stirred a little and curled up even more around himself, mumbling to his dream.person.  
  
*"Déme un pedazo de pollo, Señora. Y mándame corriendo al baño. (Give me a piece of chicken, ma'am. And send me running to the bathroom.)"Sparrow rolled her eyes and stepped toward him, her gun aimed at his head. Mid- twenties, she guessed, handsome but rather feminine for her taste. He stirred again, revealing the two Jack Daniels bottles that he was laying on. That made her laugh. Suddenly, she remembered why she had come, with a swift kick to the stomach she put on her fiercest face.  
  
"Levántate! Mandingo boracho! (Get up, you bloody drunk.)" She took a step back as he groaned and stretched on the floor. Slowly, drunkenly he got up and she gave a little gasp to see that the drunken man in the jumpsuit was actually a woman. That was a rarity on a Columbian boat. The woman stretched to reveal two inked bracelets of roses on her wrists. She leaned back against the wall, her eyes still closed, mumbling to herself. She was a little thing, dark hair tied in a ponytail, the underside shaved. She pulled something from her pocket, a bottle, almost like a prescription bottle and uncapped it. Using her pinky nail she shoveled a scoop of the white crystals out of the bottle and snorted it.  
  
"Aye, dios mío. (Oh, my god.)" She cursed under her breath as she doubled over. In another moment she was up straight, her eyes closed in numb euphoria. Then, suddenly, they shot open and she slapped herself. Once, twice, starring past Sparrow in a panicked attempt to feel her own face, it made Sparrow wince to watch how hard she was hitting herself. The woman turned to a mirror in the wall and starred at herself for a minute. Before another slap came. She had to stop this; still, it was rather amusing to watch. "Tengo carra?(I have a face?)" The woman asked her reflection. She slapped herself again. "Que milagro! Tengo carra! (It's a miracle! I have a face!)"  
  
"Caillate borocha! (Shut up, you drunk!)" The woman spun around, turning to the amazing voice that had come from nowhere. She saw the woman, beautiful. Softened and sharp at the same time. She was about to ask the mother if she knew the meaning of life when she noticed the gun pointed at her, she jumped and spoke before she thought. A habit she had come to terms with.  
  
"Tienes pistola!(You have a pistol!)" Sparrow closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the woman starred stupidly at her. She was losing her patience. With a sigh she smiled like a kindergarten teacher and put on the voice as well.  
  
"Muy bueno. Si, tengo pistola. (Very good. Yes, I have a pistol.)" She cocked the pistol and aimed at the woman's chest. "Así, es que te caillas el oseco. (Now, shut your fucking mouth.)" She braced herself for a fighting woman, curses and dares but she could have never prepared herself for what came next.  
  
"Perdóname, a linda señora. (Please, most beautiful lady.)" Once Sparrow came to the conclusion that the woman was trying to sweet talk her, she was hit with a whole surprise. Drunken tears started rolling down the woman's cheeks as she started to ramble on. "Por favor, no me mates. Nada mas soy una pobre mecánica. Sin nada el mundo. (Please, don't kill me. I'm nothing more than a poor mechanic. With nothing in the world)" The woman broke down in front of her, shaking with sobs. Sparrow leaned against some kind of cable box, watching the stupidly pathetic display before her. Waiting for it to end. She was bored of this display.  
  
After about five minutes, the woman finally calmed down and made her way, sniffling, into a standing position. She looked up at the girl with the gun, idly cleaning her nails not paying attention to her in the least. She felt the need to apologize for the display but she'd done enough apologizing to last her a lifetime. She wiped her nose with her sleeve. Then it hit her.  
  
"Eres una oiera? (You're a white?)" She said amazed, how could she have not noticed before? The woman looked up from her nails and gave her a look that made her feel a whole foot shorter than she already was.  
  
"Pues como piensas tu? (What do you think?)"  
  
"No pienso. (I don't think.)" She laughed, trying to humble herself further. She had spent far too much time in Columbia. She was proud.though, not too proud to grovel to a woman with a pistol cocked and aimed for her heart. "Pero, si hablas ingles. Hágame ese favor..." She paused for a moment as the woman weighed the favor. "Oh, come on. You're going to kill me. Don't tell me you don't owe me something!" This, was what Sparrow was used to. It prepared her for a fight, prepared her to kill. Though, she wondered why she hadn't just shot and killed the poor bitch five minutes ago instead of waiting for her to stop sobbing. She assumed it would have been just like killing bunnies, simple and sick.  
  
"I owe you nothing." She cocked the pistol and prepared herself for the girl's last words.  
  
"Who are you?" Sparrow had been squeezing the trigger, waiting for that satisfying click. The question caused her finger to back off. She creased her brows and frowned at the girl. That wasn't what she was supposed to say.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who are you?" The woman spoke slowly, carefully as if she were explaining something to a child.  
  
"None of your damned business."  
  
"Oh. I see. Kill me and don't give me your name. I was even going to offer you the privilege of me haunting you." Privilege? Haunting?  
  
"You're crazy." Sparrow said incredulously, shaking her head. How could she have been so nonchalant about the fact that she would die and no one would find her?  
  
"Probably. I blame Columbia, the coke for the most part." She shrugged, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "It happens." She paused, glancing at the floor then back up at the woman. "So.. .who are you? I don't believe I ever caught your name."  
  
"That could be because I never gave it to you." The woman opened her mouth but Sparrow cut in before she could. "Now, get your ass back into a standing position." She used the pistol as something of an extension for her orders. The girl sighed and stood up.  
  
"Why won't you tell me who you are? I mean, I know you're not part of the crew because they all hate women. I know you're not the cops because.. ." She nodded toward Sparrows arms. "Well, I know you're not the cops. You can't possibly be a hallucination, I just woke up. You could be an angel.if angels carried guns. Who, the fuck, are you?" She asked, more herself than Sparrow. Trying a stab at reasoning.  
  
"I'm a pirate." The word 'pirate' sent the girl in the jumpsuit bent over in laughter.  
  
"A pirate? I thought those died out years ago! You mean, like, Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum? You can't be serious." The girl fell into peels of laughter. This time Sparrow's finger didn't stop until the click and finally an explosion came. The girl stopped looked down at her feet where the ground had been shot out.  
  
"No. A pirate, as in if you don't shut up and come with me I'll kill you." The girl starred at her; two dark eyes, almost black watching Sparrow with a new found seriousness and fear. She took a careful step toward Sparrow, then another until she finally gave Sparrow the upper hand willingly. Still, she couldn't resist the urge.  
  
"Aye aye, cap'n." She smiled as the woman with the pistol gave her shoulder a shove. "Watch it, I'm delicate." She received another shove. Didn't this woman have any sense of humor?  
  
"Bullshit. What's your name?" That made the woman in the jumpsuit stop for a moment, Sparrow just gave her another shove.  
  
"Why do I have to give you my name if you don't give me yours?"  
  
"Because I don't have a gun to my back." Sparrow watched the dark ponytail bounce as the woman agreed with the logic. Sparrow led her through the halls kicking doors open, looking for what she needed. All the while keeping a pistol to the woman's back. The woman watched her as she opened another door, gave the room a growl and moved on.  
  
"Ana. Ana Valenzuela. Though they all just--" She watched as the woman cursed at another room. Then led her to the next. "They just call me--" Her captor's fast matter-of-fact movements were distracting her from her point. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Well, Ana, I am looking for the coke. I have it on good authority that they're a good lot of it on this boat and I won't leave until I find--" She opened another door, aimed another potential target then cursed when all she found were crew's quarters. "Find it."  
  
"You could ask." The captor paused, probably wondering why she should trust the word of a cokehead alcoholic. "And call me Gin." Sparrow starred at the woman for a minute, wondering how she could appear so sober. Wondering if she could trust her. The woman seemed rather indifferent to the whole deal.  
  
"What do you want for it?" Gin turned to Sparrow, ignoring the pistol half- heartedly aimed at her chest.  
  
"Get me to America."  
  
Yes, I know, my Spanish is terrible. I took French in school instead. A whole lot of good THAT did me. Anyway, feel free to leave comments and critiques. Don't be afraid of a little flameage as well, as long as you give me an idea as to what exactly you find so wrong with this story. Thank you. G'night.  
  
PS: Deal behind the whole "Tengo Carra!"- When I person snorts coke, usually there is a numb sensation behind their face and this girl, Gin, has done a lot of coke. 


	3. Judgement Day

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One  
  
A/N: Thank you for the comments.  
  
X-Mangle: Aww, you make me all warm and fuzzy inside. I should expect a few more chapters from your story as well. * cough *  
  
Dragonpink: I was listening to Tori Amos's "Crucify" while reading your comment and right as I passed over the word 'purrfect', the line "I know a cat named Easter..." sounded. * shrugs * I don't know, I liked it, I'm a fan of irony.  
  
VagrantCandy: First, I must say, kickin' name. Rock on. And yeah, I know, the story is kinda taking it's sweet time. But here's the first little part of their time-traveling. Now, the crew doesn't know they've been time- traveling. If you're not a fan of motive, or are just really impatient then, I'll post the fourth chapter along with this one and that does have a wee bit of time traveling. Alas, our dear Captain Sparrow doesn't seem to come along until a chapter or two after of that. Hey, you knew he was never a very punctual person.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
It all seemed like something from a bad dream. No, Sparrow corrected herself. It was like something from a bad movie. "'Get me to America.'" She mocked Gin's accent. The lilting Southern American accent touched by her years in Columbia. Sparrow ran a hand through her tangles, pushing the hair from her face as she pored over the maps, marking with a pen where she was, where she needed to go and how. It was a favor. It was her word to Gin, though Sparrow wondered if the woman even remembered. Van Halen's 'Running with the Devil' boomed over the $2200 stereo system. ".I've found the simple life." She bobbed her head to the music, ran a pen along the lines and sketched a few notes on a piece of paper, numbers and letters that would make sense to no one else but her. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked over an hour's work of numbers and plans. Roxy and Pogo were passed out in the quarters. Probably not really resting but lying on the beds with pillows shoved over their heads. It was rude of her to be blaring her work music over the stereo but if they didn't like it they could bloody well tell her. Gin was on deck, cutting through the early morning. Sparrow sighed again. She needed a cigarette. She dropped the pen, grabbed her pack of Lucky Strikes and headed to the door.  
  
A gasp passed her lips at what she saw, what she felt. Beads of moisture surrounded her, cold against her skin. It was still somewhat dark, the grays and greens of sea fog slowly exposing themselves in the opaque light of morning. She lit her cigarette and wandered around deck to see if the whole boat was surrounded like this. Something foolish but some part of her felt it was necessary. It was something to make the notion of fog more tangible-real. She ran to the helm, needing to rid herself of the loneliness that over came her in a shiver. There stood Gin, her hands on the wheels, squinting like Pop-Eye as her cigarette smoke waved around her in a pale aura.  
  
"How long has it been like this?" Sparrow asked, her shoulder resting on the threshold. Gin let out a scream, dropping the cigarette that she had been nursing for the past five two minutes, in a rush; she stomped on it like a spider.  
  
"Fuck." She muttered to herself, looking at the half smoked cigarette. She glanced up, seeing Sparrow standing at the threshold; an amused grin on her face, lined with urgency. "A few hours now." She said, bitterness lacing its way through her words. "My cigarette." She whined, not taking her eyes off the crushed tobacco.  
  
"That's why we try not to smoke at the helm."  
  
"I saw the Skipper do it when I was a kid."  
  
"Look what happened to him."  
  
"You got a point." Gin glanced up as Sparrow shifted to look out at the fog. She lifted her cigarette to her lips and took a drag, forcing Gin to pull out her own and place the cancer stick in her own. With one hand she lit it and took a drag. Savoring the silence between them. She wasn't much for conversation. Give her the consistent beeping of that damned board and the break of the water any day. She was always an easy to please child. Suddenly, there was an awkward pause in the silence.silence. The board wasn't beeping any more. She looked down to see that all the lights had gone out. Whatever kept the boat in top shape was gone. She opened her mouth to call Sparrow but the woman had already turned around and was striding into the room.  
  
"What's wrong?" Gin could hear the concern in her voice as she played with a few switches pressed and repressed a few buttons.  
  
"I...I don't know. It just stopped." She answered. Her voice was almost on the verge of panic.  
  
"It stopped? It doesn't just stop. Things don't just stop. What happened?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well, go see." Sparrow commanded, taking the wheel. Gin saw her captor slowly taking over the body of the woman that had gotten her drunk, given her 50 kilos out of the kindness-well, she was sure that there was some underlying motive but she liked to think that it was the kindness of her heart.  
  
"I'm a mechanic. Not an electrician." She said calmly taking a drag of her cigarette. Sparrow just starred at her.  
  
"What's the difference?" Gin let out a noise of frustration and just starred at her incredulously. What's the difference? She worked with machinery not wires. Wires were for wimps. Finally, Sparrow sighed. "Fine. Go wake Pogo and Roxy, find Dani wherever the hell she may be. We'll figure this out." She looked down at the incapable board and swallowed the urge to whip out her pistol and shoot it. She looked out at the horizon as Gin left the cabin. "Should have shot her when I had the chance." She mumbled without emotion. "Damned girl is bad luck." In her mind Sparrow tried to figure out a detour in her panicked mind. "Shit." She muttered, knowing how hard things were about to become. She mumbled the word over and over again as she starred out into the brightening greens and grays.  
  
Two hours. Two bloody, sweaty hours, Dani had been beneath the stupid board with it's stupid wires and the stupid, singing drunk that lay beside her. Toying with something that neither of them knew much about. Nothing seemed wrong to her, everything was where it should have been, and she probably did more to hurt the boat than to help it. With a sigh she pulled herself out from under the board and starred at the floor. It was still hazy outside despite the growing day. Behind her, Gin, the bleeding stowaway was still singing the same verse over and over, reminding herself of what she couldn't have. Sparrow refused the both of them any liquor until they fixed the board. She made a grimace and opened her mouth to sing along with the words, she knew the song by heart now. "Hey ho! To the bottle I go.to heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall.and wind may blow.and there still be.many miles to go. But under a tall tree I shall lie.and let the clouds go sailing by."  
  
"Is that Irish?" Dani asked before Gin could sound up another rousing rendition of the same song. She'd rather converse with the drunk than hear that song.again. Gin pulled herself out from board and lit a cigarette.  
  
"No.it's Hobbitish-Hobbitese--Hobbit." Gin took a drag and glanced at the pale, confused face of Dani. She looked more like she belonged in colder, gentler climates rather than the Caribbean. "Tolkien. Lord of the Rings. I was a fantasy geek when I was a kid, or rather my father was. He used to encourage me to write out the stories that I told him. Imagine his surprise when I said that I found my calling in mechanics, eh?" She let out a light laugh and nudged one of Dani's delicately tanned arms. How did she keep from burning? Gin idly wondered.  
  
"Yeah." Dani shifted her ash colored eyes from the brunette to the bit of sky that she could see from her spot on the floor. The fog should have been clearing but she could have sworn it was getting worse; bits were seeping into the helm. She let out a sigh, trying to fill the silent void. What was she supposed to say, 'Yeah, I've been there'? She had never even considered mechanics as a child. A ballerina, an actress, a lawyer because it was expected of her. She had never genuinely been sure of what she wanted. A cry from the deck pulled her out of her musing.  
  
"What the hell-" A pounding echoed through the decks, neither Gin nor Dani knew what to make of it so they both stayed still for a moment, sitting on the floor, heads cocked, listening. Soon, Sparrow's figure took over the doorway, she threw something resembling a pocket book in front of Dani.  
  
"Pogo spotted a ship headed our way, just out of sight, they'll be here in a few minutes. I want you to take every thing you can. And put on some loose clothing. We'll stash what we can where we can and throw the rest over. See if maybe we can get Cassandra to land." Before the whole statement could settle in, Gin was on her feet nearly screaming.  
  
"What do you mean throw the rest overboard?! That's a good half a mil! You can't just toss that overboard." Something passed in Sparrow's eyes that showed that she knew that.  
  
"Your crew was willing to toss it, just to keep it from us." She paused and glanced out at the grays. "In any case, we take our rescues where we can. My ship and my crew is worth more to me than risking the chance of getting caught." Gin opened her mouth again; she was showing some bravado for just joining. Sparrow cut her off before she had a chance to protest again. "I want you two to go into the quarters, Pogo and Roxy are already packing up, get your stuff." The girls starred at her as if she had just asked them to jump overboard. "Now!" She raised her voice and stomped her foot for emphasis, almost feeling like a mother. She shook the thought off as the girls ran past her. Her eyes followed the bow up to the growing shadow, it was just a shadow now but soon it would be their judgment. Despite the confident façade, Sparrow felt like a woman who was about to die. Waiting for what waited beyond the mist, the curtain. Her salvation. "I hope." 


	4. The Sweet Rebecca

Chapter 4  
  
Sparrow stood at the bow and watched the shadow grow larger. "Strange." She mused out loud. It was unlike anything she had seen before outside of movies and history books. Possibilities ran through her head, too fast to materialize. Perhaps, a very intricate role-playing game, she decided. But her mind was set on getting out of the suffocating fog, onto something safe. She didn't like the feeling of being stranded out at sea. Her four mates stood at her side, all in baggy jeans and jackets. She knew what was under them, something similar to what was under her clothes. Two short-nosed .38s in their holsters beneath her flannel shirt, a Browning stuffed in a hip holster beneath the waist of her pants, three switchblades in her pockets, two double edged knives in wrist sheaths, a Beretta in a thigh holster, a rifle down the leg of her jeans and an indiscernible amount of cocaine knotted in her hair beneath the hat. She was prepared for war. The ammunition was in a bag around her arm, hidden in clothing, next to her ship, her firepower was the most important thing for her. She could kill the whole fucking crew if she had to and for a moment she prepared herself for that possibility. "Hope for the best, kids." She held the flare- gun above her head and squeezed the trigger; it started with a bang and a whistle, then another explosion. They could all hear yelling, screaming. Any fire such as that could cause something of a commotion. "Gin." She said quietly, calmer than she expected. Never tearing her eyes from the growing shadow.  
  
"Yeah." The girl whispered back to her.  
  
"I couldn't make an ID for you. We'll figure something out. You speak Spanish?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So do they. Any other languages?"  
  
"English, German, Dutch, French, Japanese, Russian and Italian." Sparrow turned with a strange amazement.  
  
"Really?" The tone in her voice had shifted completely from stoic to disbelief.  
  
"Yeah." Sparrow gave a noncommittal grunt, opening the gate for her calm to return to her.  
  
"Alright, in that case, we'll have no problem." She turned back to the approaching ship and took a deep breath.  
  
......  
  
"Welcome to the Sweet Rebecca, ladies." A man with a terrible British accent and ragged sailor clothing gave them a little bow and a wickedly proper grin. "We are but a meager merchant sloop but would always be a pleasure to help such...distraught maidens such as yourselves."  
"Right..." Pogo turned from face to face of the crowd around them, starring at them as if they were some kind freak show. She didn't like the way they looked at her, like she was some thing. She starred into the ash- colored eyes of a boy no more than sixteen challenging him with her own darkness. He blushed and turned to the deck, she gave a bit of a huff and turned back to the man that had taken himself to welcoming them. "Is this some kind of role-playing gig or something?"  
"Pardon?" The man gave her a hopelessly confused look. She cocked her head and gave him the same look that she gave the boy but the man wasn't quite so unsure of himself. They took a moment, challenging each other before Sparrow coughed and stepped up.  
"We were on our way to Virginia, from Nassau. Going home from trading, as it were..." She paused for a moment, trying to read past the man smug façade. "In any case, we're experiencing some technical difficulties and were just hoping for a lift to the mainland. It would be greatly appreciated and we'd be willing to reimburse you for any inconveniences, Mr..."  
"Oh! Pardon my manners! Fitch. Captain James Fitch."  
"Captain Fitch." She folded her hands and waited for his response, feeling on display in front of the muttering crew.  
"I'm sorry to tell you, Miss. .."  
"Tyler, Captain Isobella Tyler." She lied like silk.  
"Captain Tyler," He grimaced at the word 'captain', he certainly was in character. "But we are headed straight for Nassau ourselves--"  
"That's perfect, we have connections in Nassau." She feigned a distressed tone. "Though that will set us back a few weeks but it is better to lose a few weeks and a dead boat rather than the lives of my crew, Captain. Am I not right?" Sparrow swallowed a smile as Captain Fitch scratched the back of his neck, looked to the deck and mumbled something affirmative. She knew that the men would be too deeply delved in their games, their supposedly chivalrous characters to abandon them with a dead boat. "Oh thank you sir." There was an awkward pause on the ship as the men turned to each other and muttered in disgruntled tones. No one liked having a woman on the ship, five seemed much too much. She had a feeling it was going to be a very difficult ride to Nassau. The captain turned and screamed a few orders then turned to approach the rails with them. He seemed to move easier with all the orders being relayed, the movement around him, he was in his element. Sparrow watched as Cassandra floated away, the lonely white vessel looking like an abandoned little girl. Her little girl.  
"That certainly is a strange ship you've got there-" Fitch watched her as she pulled something out of her pocket and ran to the aft of the ship before he could even note the impossibility with which the women sailed.  
"Sparr--Tyler!" Pogo screamed and ran after her and watched as the woman threw the thing in her hand onto the deck of the little boat. "What the hell are you doing?" Before Pogo could get another word in a loud explosion sounded and Sparrow and Pogo were pressed to the deck. There was a commotion on board but neither of the girls dared to look up. Neither wanted to look up. They lay on the deck with their foreheads pressed to the wood. After a moment of that Sparrow finally opened her mouth.  
"You think it's cedar?" She said, not taking her face away from the deck.  
"No. Too soft for a ship, sure smells like it though. Doesn't it?"  
"Yeah." There was a rustle beside them, around them.  
"Sir! Pirates!" Sparrow lifted her head and rested on her elbows in a sort of cheerleader fashion. A small boy, no more than twelve stood pointing to the girls, waiting. Sparrow looked over as six men took Dani, Roxy and Gin into their arms. Two handlers to one pirate. She looked at the boy again who had a strange glimmer of pride and fear shining in his eyes. He looked at her, noticed she moved and glanced up again.  
"Now, what on earth makes you say that?" The boy glanced back down at her, something on his face. Like he was surprised it could speak.  
"Your-- your tattoos, Miss." The boy stuttered, his speech a little less steady. Sparrow casually glanced down at Pogo, whose shirt had crept up her back when she pushed the both of them down. There, on the center of her back was the proud, bold outline of a skull with two rifles fashioned in a crossed pattern. Pogo gave a sheepish smile from beneath her pink bangs.  
"Oh sure, 'Let's all get matching tattoos! It'll be fun!'" Sparrow mocked Pogo's voice. "I'm never drinking with you again." She said in a casual voice. In two moves she was pulled onto her feet and bound at the wrists by two men. She turned as the same was done to Pogo. With a feigned obedience, both girls were led to the Captain, who still stood where they had first boarded, Dani, Roxy and Gin bound beside them.  
"Pirates." He said as he paced along the line of women, as if that one word explained everything. He continued to pace and lecture though Sparrow didn't pay attention to one word. She shifted from one foot to the other, feeling the comfort of her weapons, if she could get to them before he did... "Put'em in the brigs until I know what to do with them." He stepped close to Sparrow. She could smell every thing he had ever eaten on his breath, bile from last night, rum and something yeasty from the morning. She could see every missing tooth, a scar on his cheek, old, tired eyes. "God have mercy on your pathetic soul. The Spanish won't." 


	5. Baker Baker

Chapter 5  
  
Never in her life had Sparrow seen Gin come to life than when Captain Fitch had uttered the word Spanish.  
  
"You can't! You bastards!" She was pulled beneath the deck, fighting her two sailors the whole way, getting her kicks in where she could, screaming in all her languages, mainly Spanish and English. Behind Gin, Dani, Roxy and then Pogo were led into the mysterious bowels of the ship. With a shove from the sailor behind her, Sparrow sighed and let herself be calmly led to the 'brigs'. She had grown far too familiar with this routine. Once led into a painstakingly accurate model of a ships 'prison' she was shoved into a cell with the four other women. Three looked up to her but Gin was curled in a corner whispering and mumbling.  
  
"They're taking us to the Spanish..." She said out loud as soon as the sailors had left the girls. "They're taking us to the Spanish..." Gin looked up to Sparrow with glassy eyes. "Do you have any fucking idea what the Spanish did to pirates in the 1700s?!" Sparrow shrugged.  
  
"Slapped them on the hand and sent them to bed without their dinner?" She turned away from the girl. She had cracked far sooner then Sparrow had expected, she had misjudged Gin by a great deal.  
  
"Gin, it's not real. None of it is real. Once we reach some mainland, I'm sure they'll let us go." She could hear Roxy's soothing, relaxed voice, an octave higher than it should have been. "It's all just a game. They'll come down soon and apologize for what they've done. Especially with those tears in your eyes." There was a light laugh. Sparrow let out a huff and gave her best attempt to push a stray tangle from her eye. She studied the dungeon closely, the cage was primitive at best, easily escapable. If only she could get out of the damned ropes. They were giving her splinters in her wrist every time she moved.  
  
"No, you don't understand. It is real. It's all real. It's all real." There was the sound of sobbing and the hushed voices of both Dani and Roxy.  
  
"Pogo." Sparrow whispered to the pink haired figure standing near her. Lord knew she would hardly be able to talk to anyone else at that time without being called a heartless bitch. The girl stepped next to her.  
  
"You rang?"  
  
"What do you have on you?" Sparrow continued to study the cell, the lock, the bags in the corner, if only she could get to her bags.  
  
"My Remmingtons, two .38PSs, one Glock, my Baby B, four switchblades and my throwing knives." Sparrow looked over and studied the woman beside her, the yellow cargos and the god-awful green and blue plaid coat.  
  
"My god. Where do you keep it?" She asked in amazement, her crew was surprising her. Pogo gave her the fearsome smirk.  
  
"My secret." Sparrow returned the smile, she had chosen Pogo just for that smirk...well, that and the fact that the girl was an excellent shot with a thriving interest in modern maritime piracy.  
  
"Okay, well, I'm going to need you for just a second. There are two double edges in my wrist sheaths, I'm going to need you to cut my ropes, they're killing me." She turned her back to Pogo and allowed the girl to feel around with her fingers. She felt the steel slip against her skin and the new freedom in her wrists as the girl cut the ropes. She fidgeted around for a bit, feeling a first thread, a second, and after a good half an hour of positioning and repositioning themselves, Sparrow's hands were finally free. She moved her hands around a bit, then her shoulders before turning to Pogo and freeing her somewhat quickly from the ropes. With a flick of her wrists, both knives were in her grasp. She handed one to Pogo, hilt first and without another word, the girls moved to cut the other ropes.  
  
Within the hour, everyone was free of her binds and sitting in their respectable corners of the cell. Well, except for Roxy who was still sitting with Gin, trying to convince her that it was a game.  
  
"No, you didn't see it." Gin shook her head and starred at the floor.  
  
"What was it?" Roxy asked in her most maternal tone.  
  
"A rat."  
  
"A rat?" Sparrow could hear the slight hint of exasperation in Roxy's voice.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What's the big fucking deal? Ships get rats all the time. Why should this time be so different?" Pogo had grown somewhat tired of the ranting and Roxy's need to be maternal.  
  
"No, that's the thing. If this were a model of a merchant sloop, they'd have kept it in top shape. They wouldn't have allowed any rats on board. Something this close to the real thing is a rare commodity; they wouldn't have let it go to shit like they have on this one. They wouldn't have bound us either, or kicked Dani." Sparrow glanced up at Dani, whose skin developed an embarrassed blush.  
  
"They kicked you, Dani?" The girl only looked down at the floor. "Daniella," the girl's head jerked up at the use of her full name. "Did they kick you?" The girl only nodded. Something ran over Sparrow's body, something that hadn't made an appearance in a long time. A fear of doubt and the unknown. There was a tense silence in the cell. Everyone in a rush of their own doubts, it seemed to pulse through the walls, seep through the tar and wood. There was no more of that lovely cedar scent, just the silence and the tar.  
  
"I have this theory about the whole thing." Gin said after some time of watching everybody stare intently at the floor. She seemed to have regained some of her former composure. Everybody's head jerked up at her sudden voice. Even she expected less calm out of herself. She let out a nervous cough. "That the 1700s was a time of innovation, right? Movement and such." She waited for an affirmation from any of the girls but all of them, even Roxy, just gave her blank stares. "As is the 1900s. It's a time of constant movement, constant innovation, and constant social changes. The times are so similar when you get down to it. And what if, perhaps, the Bermuda triangle really did exist. I'm sure if you were able to look on a map, you'd be able to find that our ship was near all the other crashes. Maybe, it was just our bad luck. See?" Dani stood up from her place and leaned against the bars of her new prison, finally being able to see how really small it was.  
  
"But why this time? The Roman Empire was similar to the 1900s too. Why not just transfer us back then? What motivation would be behind us?"  
  
"Maybe there is no motivation, maybe it's all just a series of events. Depending on what you believe, fate or free will." Sparrow finally stood up, she wasn't going to allow a philosophical debate to go on while she was still planning the escape and take-over of the Sweet Rebecca.  
  
"It doesn't matter. It wasn't our free will to be caught in the cage. We need to get out." She carefully stepped over three sets of legs on her way to the door where Dani leaned. The girl moved over as Sparrow got to her knees and finally got a closer look at the lock. "Alright, Dani, I'm going to need that stupid butterfly clip in your hair."  
  
"It's not stupid. It's pretty." Dani remarked plainly as she undid the pin from her hair and handed it over to Sparrow.  
  
"It's pink and glittery and made for a two year old. The other one too."  
  
"Not if you're going to talk about it like that, no."  
  
"No?" Sparrow straightened and looked straight into the mint colored eyes of the girl next to her.  
  
"Say it's pretty." Sparrow rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might roll out of her head.  
  
"Fine. It's pretty. Now give it to me." Dani pouted and handed her the other clip. "Great. Now, all we need is a little..." She trailed off as she felt for certain clicks, nudges. "Yes." With a protesting squeal the door opened. Before the poor door could even open all the way, Sparrow had made a beeline for her bag, Pogo and Dani doing the same. It was like Christmas for Sparrow as she pulled out a few extra clips and a muffler. She attached the latter to her Browning; with the clips she'd be able to kill the whole crew without so much as an explosion. She wasn't sure what had led her to her decision to take over the ship. She blamed the information that she had received just a few minutes ago. They had kicked Dani, and while Sparrow didn't particularly care for Dani, it still meant that the people they were dealing with were enemies to them. By the time she looked up from her weapon she saw that the girls were fondling their toys as well. Just then, her ears picked up on something, a slight rustling in the stairs above them. "Shit." She whispered under her breath. "Everybody, back in the cage." The girls rushed to the cell, they were once so happy to escape. Sparrow was the last, leaving one of the pins in the door. Hoping that would keep it open. There were two sets of steps. One slow and steady, the other a little bouncy. Sparrow cocked her gun behind her back, trying very hard to look unhappy.  
  
"Good evening ladies." Said a cheerfully chubby sailor who had to be at least 50. In his arms he had something wrapped in canvas and behind him another skinnier sailor bounced with two large bottles of something. Sparrow idly hoped it was vodka. "Are ye enjoying yer stay on our Sweet Becky?" He looked up with a smug smile and for a moment Sparrow wanted to shoot him right there. "Ah well, you never got to see'er from 'er best angle." He trailed off, stepping around the room, straightening a knick- knack, and taking his sweet time to give them whatever it was that he carried in his arms.  
  
"Pardon me, mister..."  
  
"David Baker." He looked pleased to get a sweet smile from Pogo. She was pretty after all and there was no knowing how long the men had been at sea.  
  
"Pardon me, mister Baker. But might you be willing to answer a question for me?" The man took a step closer and gave her a genuine smile.  
  
"For a pretty girl like you? Of course." Sparrow glanced over at the skinny lad who gave the girls nervous looks. Sparrow followed his eye from Pogo to Dani to Roxy then down to the lock. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth but Pogo beat him to the punch.  
  
"Could you tell me if this is a game?" The man Baker threw her a confused look but shrugged it off.  
  
"Dav--"  
  
"I'm sorry," he shook his head sadly. "But this is no game. Captain Tyler plans to--"  
  
"David--"  
  
"Samuel, shut yer gob. I'm talkin' 'ere." Sparrow exchanged glances with the boy.  
  
"Yeah Samuel. Shut yer gob." She gave him a wink as Baker tried his charms on Pogo.  
  
"Truly, I feel sorry for you girls. I'm sure y'all weren't really a bad bunch but once the good Captain sets his mind to something, he won't let it go. I'm sorry."  
  
"Me too..." Pogo ran a hand along the bar that separated her face from Baker's and savored the emotions that passed over his face, confusion, realization, and then the wide-eyed terror. Pogo squeezed the trigger and released the bullet into his chest, he let out a sigh before toppling to the ground. Sparrow took her cue and kicked the door open in a most dramatic way. The boy Samuel stood, still as a deer in the headlights, the sadistic smile playing on her lips.  
  
"Good day to you. Samuel? It is Samuel, right?"  
  
"Mr. Crowe." The anger flashed in his eyes but his once fidgety body went completely still. Sparrow knew that he could have made an attempt on her life had he not three guns pointed at him.  
  
"Well, Mr. Crowe, I suppose you're wondering what we're doing."  
  
"I dunnae haveta wonder. Yer pirates." Sparrow furrowed her eyebrows.  
  
"Oh come now, Mr. Crowe. As the late Mr. Baker once said, 'Y'all weren't really a bad bunch.' We really aren't that bad. However, we will do whatever we can to get where we need to be." The realization came over Samuel in a wave.  
  
"Yer plannin' ta steal the ship."  
  
"That's right, Sammy. Now, you can either help us or we can kill you."  
  
"I'd rather die than help a pirate--" With the whoosh of muffled recoil, a bullet was set between Samuel Crowe's brows.  
  
"Hey! He was rather cute." Dani commented with a mock remorse. Sparrow rolled her eyes.  
  
"He's yours if you want him. Don't think he'll be much fun in bed though."  
  
"You're sick."  
  
......  
  
An hour later, the girls were once again, shoved into the small cell. Stripped of the lot of their weapons.  
  
"Thirty-six." Sparrow mused out loud as she reclined back onto the cell floor. "Not bad. A few more and we might have gained control." She turned to the two sailors that had been assigned to keep watch on them and gave them a contented smile. "Would you have helped us, boys?" One glanced down to the floor and blushed and Sparrow's smile widened as his friend pushed him over to a corner of the room.  
  
"Don't talk to them, they're pirates." Sparrow gave a little laugh and turned her attention to the other cell where Dani was set on complaining.  
  
"Now, why does she get a cell to herself when we're all stuck together?" Dani turned to Sparrow and Sparrow could see the mischief in her eyes.  
  
"Because I'm special." Dani stuck her tongue out and Sparrow returned the favor before turning back to the ceiling and letting herself grow familiar with the patterns of the tarred wood. If Gin was right, and if they were being sent to the Spanish, if something had really happened. She sure had a lot to sort out. 


	6. Interlude 1

I realize that some people have responded to chapters three and four. However, my computer refuses to let me check my mail, ergo, I cannot respond quite yet. I'm sorry.  
  
Anyway, here's the next little bit. It's told from Sparrow's perspective if I made it unclear at all.  
  
Hurry, hurry! Read through it! JACK Sparrow is in the next chapter!! *coughIjusthavetowriteitcough*  
  
I know, seriously, at friggen last.  
  
Interlude  
  
It's a little funny, what goes through your mind in times like these. First, you plot escape, and you hope all goes according to plan. But of course, nothing does. I had tried to escape five times and though three of those times I had succeeded in getting out of that stupid little cage, I had lost my weapons, my clothing and eventually, my endurance. The 'fine' Captain Fitch was smarter than he looked. Pogo noticed this first.  
  
"My father used to do it before he interrogated a prisoner of war." She told me very matter-of-factly, as if I had never heard the story before. There were times when Fitch would feed us once a day, sometimes four times. There was no real schedule and no windows in the 'brigs' so we had no real sense of time, of the hour. The shifts were changed randomly, but always, a pair of sailors sat on steps and watched us, at times they brought down cards and played games. But they never talked to us. I suspected it was under Captain's orders. It was meant to drive us insane. It was meant to break us.  
  
Time. Time is the only thing a prisoner has before she hits the wall. We're constantly ruled by the hour, by the minute, by the second. It's not something usually noticed those who walk and live by times rule but for those of us that have been locked away from the world. We have hours to stare at the ceiling and let these things go through our mind.  
  
This wasn't the first time I'd been locked away. Once upon a time in Mexico I had spent three bruised months behind bars, but at least I knew what time it was.  
  
I tracked it, the seconds, by the swell and fall of the waves but there were times when it was hard to keep track and eventually I lost count all together. The girls passed time with stories from their lives. Pogo and her father.  
  
"He was an Army Ranger..." She'd say, explaining her eye for the weapons. Then there was Dani. Dani and her love for shiny things. Describing her life as a misplaced aristocrat, her love for a man who showed her the advantages of becoming a jewel thief. It was when Roxy was completing her tales of Southern California and her own fluidic spoils; she had traded her surfing expertise for sailing lessons with the rich kids in Orange County. She had married a man by the name of Justin. It was as she was describing her wedding in every painstaking detail that I heard it. It was faint at first, barely audible over the constant commotion but it echoed through the walls, reverberated in my mind. That was it, my salvation in the dank, dirty prison. It was a way of keeping time, I knew it, within me, somehow, I knew it.  
  
It was 52 bells later, I was in the middle of my 9th meal of sturdy sea biscuits and vile, green water when I heard a commotion above me. A hard pounding down the steps, the breath of a man. 52 bells ago, I wouldn't have heard it but somehow, limiting myself to the small cell sharpened my senses. Or maybe it was just that I was starting to listen. I looked to the sailors and they looked up at the stairs. A young boy's figure stood in the doorway and whispered something into one of the sailor's ear. My own ears perked up but I barely caught the ending.  
  
"...with her..." The sailor nodded and sent the boy back to where he came from. In two steps the solder closed the space between where he sat and where my cell was. He pulled a key from his pocket and began to unlock the door. I swallowed down the last of my green water and stood up to meet him.  
  
"What's happening?" I asked him. He looked up with the most sadistic expression I had ever seen in my corrupted little life.  
  
"Cap'n wants'ta see ya." He muttered, the smile widening on his face. He held the door open for me in the complete trust that he had broken me. I watched him for a moment before stepping out and pushing the door into him. He stumbled, the shocked expression hidden for a moment before anger possessed him. In three moves, I was pushed from the door and he was in front of me. With one swift punch I was on the ground, looking up at the red-faced sailor. "If it weren't for it bein' orders that'ya come untouched, I'd kill ya, I would." I should have known that there was something off at that moment. I should have cared. I should have tried to escape but, none of it mattered to me. All that mattered was that I might get a glimpse of the sky and that the sailor wasn't smiling anymore.  
  
I should have cared. 


End file.
